by Linda Bleser
A Cerridwen Press Publication
www.cerridwenpress.com
East of Easy
ISBN #1-4199-0571-6
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
East of Easy Copyright© 2006 Linda Bleser
Edited by Kelli Kwiatkowski.
Cover art by Willo.
Electronic book Publication: March 2006
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing Inc., 1056 Home Avenue, Akron, OH 44310-3502.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.
Cerridwen Press is an imprint of Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.®
EAST OF EASY
Linda Bleser
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Band-Aid: Johnson & Johnson Corporation
Formica: Formica Corporation
Jell-O: Kraft Foods Holdings, Inc.
Juan Valdez: National Federation of Coffee Growers of Colombia
Lego: Interlego A.G. Corporation
Levi: Levi Strauss & Co.
Mountain Dew: Pepsico, Inc.
Old Spice: The Procter & Gamble Company
Stetson: John B. Stetson Company
Starbucks: Starbucks U.S. Brands
Tylenol: McNeil Laboratories, Inc.
Chapter One
With her usual dramatic flair, Lillian Feathers died on the morning of her own funeral.
“Leave it to your mother,” Bertha Pitt said, dabbing her eyes. “If I’d known this was going to be a real funeral I’d have made my Southern Pecan Pie, but in this heat…”
“It’s fine,” Kate said, giving Bertha’s hand a comforting pat. “Mom always loved your Jell-O mold.”
Bertha seemed more upset about her choice of dessert than over Lillian’s sudden passing. Kate pushed the uncharitable thought aside. Most likely Bertha was still in a state of shock, half expecting Lillian to pop out of some secret hiding place to enjoy the proceedings. It was understandable. Kate felt her own stomach churning with emotions—shock, denial.
But not grief. Not yet.
She was still too furious to allow herself a moment to mourn.
Kate had come back to Easy, Arizona, for one reason only—to stop Lillian from spoiling her brother Jeff’s wedding day with this ridiculous farce of a funeral. Only it was no longer a farce. Lillian had died quietly in her sleep while Kate’s plane was en route from New York’s Kennedy Airport to Phoenix Sky Harbor, and all of Kate’s arguments would forever go unspoken.
Even from the other side, Lillian Feathers managed to run the show.
Kate turned to inform some late arrivals that the mock funeral was now official. The assembled guests formed a surreal tableau—half of them dressed in muted funeral garb, the rest in glittering wedding finery. The two events, which had split the town in half, now drew them together. An air of hushed expectation filled the room, as if people still expected Lillian to flounce to the podium and give her own eulogy as originally planned. The only thing convincing the guests that this wasn’t another legendary Lillian Feathers Production was Jeff’s presence in the front row.
Jeff wasn’t supposed to be here. Today should have been his wedding day, and the reason Lillian had arranged her mock funeral in the first place.
“He’s killing me,” Lillian had said. “Might as well stab me straight through the heart as marry that no-good white trash. I’d rather die than give my blessing to this marriage.”
And she had. All in all, it was an effective protest.
Kate made her way through the hushed mourners, her eyes focused on a spot straight ahead to avoid the curious glances aimed her way. But she couldn’t ignore the whispers that followed her as she made her way through the packed room.
“They said it was a heart attack, but if you ask me, Lillian died of a broken heart.”
“First her husband leaves her for that Tate woman—”
“Then her daughter leaves town and no one sees hide or hair of her for ten years.”
“And now her son threatens to run away with the Tate girl.”
“It’s a crying shame.”
Kate tuned out the voices. She knew first-hand how vicious small-town gossip and rumors could be. It was the reason she’d left Easy in the first place.
Composing her face, Kate took a seat beside her brother. Jeff’s lips were pressed into a tight, thin line. He kept a white-knuckled grip on the hand of his fiancée, Sally Tate, who should have been walking down the aisle in bridal white this afternoon. Sally was a sensitive kitten of a girl, whose only sin had been entering the world from the womb of Lillian Feathers’ lifelong enemy, Ginny Tate.
The Feathers-Tate feud went back either thirty years or three hundred—no one really kept track. It had snowballed with time, fed daily by imagined slights and attacks, and coming to a head twenty years ago when Jebediah Feathers left his wife and family to take up with Ginny Tate.
That traitorous deceit had torn Kate’s family apart and split the town into opposing factions. Long after Jebediah’s death, the rivalry between Lillian Feathers and Ginny Tate continued. The impending wedding of Jeff Feathers to Sally Tate was only the latest skirmish in a long and bloody war. Both sworn enemies had taken a stand. Ginny Tate vowed never to speak to her daughter again if she walked down the aisle with “that demon-spawn Feathers boy.” Not to be outdone, Lillian had declared herself officially dead, shot through the heart by her son’s treachery. She’d planned her funeral to coincide with the wedding, making her mock death official.
But not as official as the actual death certificate tucked inside Kate’s purse.
The simple ceremony went by in a haze. Kate seemed to be running on automatic. All she wanted was to get the funeral over with so she could go back to New York, far from the accusing whispers.
In need of fresh air, Kate stepped outside, away from the cloying scent of death and lilies. The funeral director rushed past, a harried expression on his face. It was no wonder. Normally he would have had a day or two to prepare, but Lillian’s death was sudden and she’d already booked the funeral parlor. It would have been a shame to waste all the preparations Lillian had made for the faux funeral.
A voice from behind her interrupted Kate’s thoughts.
“I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”
Kate stiffened. Even without turning, she recognized the honey-smooth voice of Max Connors. She’d spent most of her life letting it pluck her emotions—from adolescent adoration to teenage love and then, finally, to a betrayal so deep it had left her heart scarred. She tried to pretend that same voice had no effect on her now—that her stomach didn’t contract to the size of a hard, shriveled peach pit.
She took a slow, deep breath. Max Connors was only one of the painful memories she’d left behind.
But he was the most painful one.
She composed her face, hoping not to betray the emotions churning through her, before turning to face him.
“Max,” she said. “Thank you for coming.” She studied his face. It was leaner, more angular than she remembered. It was the face of a man, not the boy she’d left behind ten years ago.
Run from, she amended. At the age of eighteen she’d left town, heading as far east of Easy as she could, all the way to the big, bad apple—New York City. There she’d taken on a new life, a new name, a new identity. No longer was she Kitty “call-for-a-good-time” Feather
s, but Kate Feathers, assistant copy editor at the advertising firm of Stoller, Crumb and Crumb.
She straightened and tried to ignore the jumble of bittersweet memories conjured by Max Connors’ voice, but found herself captured. When had he taken her hand, engulfing it in that casually possessive way of his?
“You look great, Kitty,” he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.
Damn right! She’d worked hard to shed her past and fit in with the trendy, casual chic of New York City. One thing she’d learned at Stoller, Crumb and Crumb was that half the presentation was in the packaging. Although it took a large chunk of her salary to keep up the image, she’d learned how to make the most of her package.
Unlike some people, she thought, giving Max the once-over. At least his jeans were clean and his shirt ironed. In Easy that was considered the height of fashion—although most men had more sense than to wear their jeans so tight.
“Kitty?”
“Huh?” With a guilty flush, Kate jerked her gaze upward, pretending not to notice the slow, sexy smile that crossed his face. She had not been checking him out, no matter what he thought. Straightening her shoulders and drawing herself up to her full five and a half feet, she still had to tip her head to give him her haughtiest glare. “It’s Kate,” she corrected him. “No one calls me Kitty anymore.” She brushed imaginary wrinkles from her silk skirt. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
He gripped her arm and turned her to face him again. “I realize this isn’t a good time, but I need to talk to you. I was doing some work for your mother.”
“Work?” What was he talking about? He was a small-town cowboy. As far as she could remember, the only skill he had was charming the cheerleaders out of their pom-poms. What in the world was he doing for her mother? She glanced at his hand wrapped firmly around her arm, then back at his face.
He released her and cleared his throat. “I was helping your mother remodel the shop.”
The shop. How could she have forgotten Lillian’s pet project? In a world full of cappuccino and latté lovers, Lillian had perversely opened a tea shop. No one had expected the business to succeed, let alone thrive the way it had over the years. Not only was the Tea and Crumpet Shop still in business but apparently doing well enough to need a handyman, if Max’s claim was true.
“I’ll see that you’re paid for whatever work you’ve done,” she assured him.
He chuckled and the sound flowed over her senses like silk. “I’ve been paid in full,” he said. “Your mother’s business was doing very well.”
He ran a hand through his hair, causing a tumble of glossy dark waves to fall over his forehead. He still had that same James Dean attitude she remembered from high school—a cocky confidence that used to turn her legs to jelly.
A familiar wave of resentment washed over her. “We can discuss business some other time. This isn’t the time or place.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I just wanted you to know that I’ll be at the shop first thing Monday morning. I always finish what I start.”
She wondered why that sounded so ominous. He’d started plenty ten years ago, but she’d be damned if she’d let him treat her like some kind of unfinished business.
He ran his hand through his hair again in another quick swipe. She used to find the mannerism endearing. The truth was, she still did—but that didn’t change anything.
She watched Max stride off and climb into a red pick-up truck that had seen better days. Well, whatever unfinished business he had with her mother didn’t give him a claim on her. That was in the past and she intended to keep it that way.
She’d have to decide what to do about her mother’s business—and Max. But she’d worry about that Monday.
*
Back inside the funeral parlor, Kate realized she wouldn’t have that luxury. It didn’t take long before the questions started. The first person to pull her aside was Nellie Granger, a plump, white-haired woman who smelled of cinnamon and vanilla.
“What are we going to do next week?” Nellie asked. “It’s blueberry week.”
It took Kate a moment to realize that Nellie was talking about the Tea and Crumpet Shop.
Nellie’s hands fluttered nervously. “I’ve got a kitchen full of blueberries that’ll spoil if I don’t put them to use.”
“I haven’t decided what to do about the shop,” Kate admitted. She was stopped from explaining further by the panic in the older woman’s eyes.
“We have to open, of course. It’s blueberry week! I’ve got scones and muffins and crumpets to bake. And we have a shipment of blueberry tea arriving first thing in the morning. Your mother wouldn’t want to let people down.”
Kate thought it would be insensitive to point out that her mother’s concerns were no longer a consideration. Besides, how hard would it be to keep the shop open a few days until she and Jeff decided what to do about it?
Nellie looked relieved when Kate told her to go ahead with her plans for blueberry week. Kate got the same reaction from a ponytailed teenager who wanted to be sure she still had a waitress job, and again when she was confronted by Arthur Zimmerman, who handled the counter and cash register.
Apparently her mother had half the town on the payroll. Not bad for what Kate thought of as a little tea shop. Well, the fact that it was a successful business was reassuring. It meant they wouldn’t have any problem selling it and moving on with their own lives. She’d talk to Jeff about the business later.
But it was hours before the last of the mourners trickled out and she had some time alone with her brother. They moved to a quiet sitting area away from the viewing room. Jeff and Sally huddled together on a plump floral couch while Kate sank into an overstuffed wingback chair.
“What are we going to do about Mom’s little tea shop?” Kate asked, kicking her shoes off with a sigh of relief.
Jeff glanced at Sally then back to his sister. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “That’s what we wanted to talk to you about.”
Sally looked at her with a hopeful expression. Why was everyone looking at her like their very lives depended on her all of a sudden?
“Sally and I,” Jeff began, taking his fiancée’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Well, we’ve decided to go ahead with the wedding.”
At Kate’s startled expression Jeff barreled ahead, as if afraid he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t get it out all at once. “Not a big wedding, just a private service with the justice of the peace tomorrow afternoon. I mean, we have the license and everything. And we’ve already paid for the honeymoon cruise.”
Kate jerked to attention. A cruise? “You’re going away? But what about the shop and the house and everything that has to be done?”
“Well,” Jeff muttered, not quite meeting her gaze. “That’s where you come in. We were hoping…you said you have two weeks off, right?”
“Yes, but…” Kate found herself at a loss for words.
“Couldn’t you stay here and cover for a couple weeks? We’ll take over as soon as we come back from our honeymoon.”
Stay in Easy? Kate gulped. Her stomach clenched and a cold sweat rippled along her skin. She couldn’t. She’d turned her back on Easy and everything it represented. Just the thought of staying another day made her hands clench into fists at her side.
“You’re keeping the shop open?” It seemed easier to concentrate on concrete things rather than the thought of staying in town for two whole weeks—and wearing an apron no less.
“Yes, of course. If you can just keep things running until we get back.” He cleared his throat. His eyes shifted away then back again. “It’s only two weeks.”
Guilt caught her by the throat. Jeff didn’t say what Kate knew he could—that he’d stayed when Kate had run off and left them all behind. He’d helped their mother build the business while Kate had been off making a life for herself in New York. For ten years he’d put up with Lillian’s domineering ways. It must have been difficult for him. Today was proo
f of that. He’d had the most important day of his life ruined.
The least Kate could do was repair some of the damage their mother had caused. Was it too much to ask that just this once Jeff be allowed to do what he wanted? He’d never asked Kate for anything before, she realized with another stab of guilt.
Two sets of eyes searched her face. Both Jeff and Sally seemed to be holding their breath waiting for her answer.
Kate’s shoulders slumped. What choice did she have? “Of course,” she said, leaning forward and clasping her brother’s hand. “You and Sally deserve this.”
Sally let out a trembling sigh of relief and seemed to melt against Jeff’s chest. He pulled her close, smiling at Kate and mouthing a silent “Thank you.”
She felt like a heel for wanting to jump on the first available flight back to New York City when there were still so many things that had to be done here. Fourteen days. How bad could it be?
Besides, it was blueberry week.
*
Later that evening, Kate sat alone in her mother’s kitchen. She’d managed to hold herself together as long as she’d kept busy, but with the last hushed goodbye from well-meaning visitors, grief crept in and filled the silence.
The house had changed little. Looking around the familiar kitchen, the years slipped away. She’d known coming home would bring back memories. She’d shored herself up, prepared for the worst. Ten years was a long time, but so much had changed. She’d grown up. Matured. She could deal with a few bad memories.
But she hadn’t been prepared for the unexpected rush of sweet memories—doing homework at the cracked Formica table while Lillian made grilled-cheese sandwiches on the stove, or sneaking a cookie from the ceramic cookie jar while Lillian chatted on the phone and Jeff built Lego cities on the floor. Those remembrances of happier times hurt almost as much as the more painful ones she’d nurtured over the years. They only reminded her of how much she’d lost.
Walking through the house, Kate focused on the little changes—the new lace curtains replacing the yellow dotted Swiss she remembered, the wrought iron baker’s rack in the corner draped with pottery and fresh ivy, a teapot-shaped clock over the window. Each small change pierced her heart with a fresh wave of remorse. Life had gone on here while she’d held it unchanged in her memory. Little by little, Lillian had given up waiting for her daughter to come home.
